Dumbledore's Training
by Lord Ripplescales
Summary: Drastic times call for drastic measures. Dumbledore begins to train Harry as he should have from the beginning.


The silence was deafening, palpable to the point it seemed as though it could be cut with a knife. Harry had been sent down to visit the Headmaster by McGonagall halfway through her class, and he had absolutely no idea why. She had told him to go down after being given a note by a panting Prefect, and when he had asked her why, she just gave a shake of her head and pursed her lips.

Needless to say, Harry was dying to know what was going on.

Entering the headmaster's office, he glanced briefly around the room, taking in the mess of papers on the usually organized desk, as well as muddy footprints on the floor leading away from the Floo. The green-eyed boy cleared his throat as he peered at his headmaster, wondering what was going on behind his inscrutable expression.

"Excuse me, sir, but why did you call me down here?"

"I'm sorry, my boy. I've wanted you to experience as much of a childhood as you can, and my attempts to do so have led to some grievous errors. You are wholly unprepared for the war that is coming, and that is something that must be amended as quickly as possible, so we can mitigate much of the impending damage. It is time." Dumbledore said it in a calm, measured voice, but his eyes were deep wells of sadness and relief, betraying the emotions he was feeling at finally admitting his mistakes, and all the consequences that would inevitably arrive from them.

"Time for what, sir?" Harry asked, bewildered, having picked up on the emotion but not able to grasp all of what it implied.

"It is time for you to learn what it means to be the Chosen One," the elderly headmaster said in a whisper.

While some may think his actions were those of a senile old fool, he truly had wanted to do what was best for the young wizard, and he had hoped it would never come to this. Eyeing him solemnly, he stood up.

"Time for you to become the wizard you were always meant to be."

The green-eyed Boy-Who-Lived gaped, somewhat frightened, at the solemn man he'd always looked up to. The look on his face was that of someone who had gone toe-to-toe with two of the most powerful dark lords of all time, and not the friendly headmaster he'd come to admire as a role model. He was wild-eyed, and his usually neat and orderly robes were in disarray.

"It is time for you to achieve the levels of greatness that you have so far only hinted at!" Albus' voice picked up in volume as he spoke, until it was a roar. Suddenly he stood, his magic raging around him, a maelstrom of deadly power, a sharp contrast to the normal tranquility that usually surrounded the man.

"I shall personally train you in the even the most obscure arts of magic, and create a new leader of the Light, one whose very name shall make dark wizards tremble!" The only wizard Voldemort ever feared began to stride past the still-shocked Harry, towards the staircase leading out of his office.

Behind him, Fawkes gave a mournful cry, a long and drawn out whimper that raised the hair on the back of Harry's neck. It was a cry of someone who dreaded a choice they were being forced to make.

"Come along Mr. Potter, we have a lot of work to do and so little time."

Harry was slow to rise, completely mystified at the changes that had undergone the previously friendly man. Where before he had been kind, mysterious and somewhat odd, he now had an aura of power and electricity around him, his calculating eyes seemingly constantly analyzing the room. Was this, Harry thought to himself, the wizard Grindelwald and Voldemort had seen in battle? A side that few people still living had ever witnessed? The true question was, what had drawn out the anger of the normally serene man?

"Mr Potter?" Dumbledore called back sharply as he began to descend the staircase.

Harry shook his head and ran after the man he admired. Whatever the reason for the changes, he was finally going to be given the tools he would need to protect his friends, and he would give it his all.

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Sweat droplets flew off him as he shook from exertion, his usually wild hair plastered against his head by the moisture. Panting, Harry threw himself to the side as yet another curse blew past him, turning the dive into a roll to avoid the follow-up. As he finished his roll, he cast a shielding charm to protect himself, then began to fight back, throwing hexes with reckless abandon.

"No! What have I told you about that? Your reflexes are good, but you are still too hot-headed! You must clear your mind. Do not let your anger boil over and control you, control it! Turn it into ice, and let it make you as calm and deadly as the eye of the storm!" Dumbledore bellowed at the young wizard, as he contemptuously flicked aside the few hexes that came close to him. The rest fizzled out aimlessly against the walls of the abandoned classroom they were practising in.

The desks in the room had been moved in a random pattern around the room, to simulate a battlefield filled with debris, and spell damage was evident on nearly every one of them, evidence of the brutal training that had been going on for several hours.

"Y-yes Headmaster," Harry wheezed out, clutching a hand to his rapidly beating heart as he attempted to catch his breath.

Dumbledore studied the young wizard before him, noting the way he still hadn't relaxed, waiting warily for the next barrage of spells to be sent upon him. It was a start, but there was much more work to do before he would be ready to face an inner-circle Death Eater, let alone the Dark Lord himself.

"That is all for tonight. You are dismissed. Same time tomorrow, and don't be late," He finally barked out, having seen enough for the night.

Harry could only nod in relief, staggering towards the door of the room. His muscles were screaming and when he finally managed to lurch into the Gryffindor Common Room, he collapsed onto one of the sofas and fell asleep instantly.

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As Gryffindor students made their way down the stairs the next morning, they were greeted by the unusual sight of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, draped over a sofa.

While it wasn't uncommon for a student to fall asleep studying in the common room, they usually woke up during the night and made it to their beds. Not only that, but there was no evidence that any studying had been done, with a lack of books surrounding him.

"Blimey, Harry, what're you doing down here!?" Ron exclaimed as he came down the stairs and caught a glimpse of Harry.

To his surprise, the shout, which had been by no means quiet, did nothing to wake the sleeping boy.

"Uhh, Harry?" Ron came up beside his best friend, concern colouring his voice as Harry failed to stir for a second time. Gaining a mischievous grin that would have made his twin brothers proud, he realized what an opportunity this was.

Drawing back, he pulled out his wand and whispered, "_Aguementi_!"

The jet of water that spurt out towards Harry made him smirk, thinking of all the times his brothers had woke him up with it.

A smirk that lasted until Harry sat up sharply, his wand whipping out and casting a non-verbal _Protego_ milliseconds before the jet of water would have impacted. The water instantly reversed directions, soaking the redhead.

"Huh? What?" Harry said intelligibly, looking around groggily, slipping out of the automatic duelling stance he had fallen into. Catching sight of his friend, who was rapidly reddening at the various snickers from those who had seen what had happened, he grinned sheepishly, realizing what must have happened.

"Sorry Ron, I don't know what happened-" Harry began, before being cut off by an irate Hermione, who had somehow appeared in their midst.

"Honestly Ronald! I don't see why you're apologizing Harry, he got what he deserved. Impressive movement by the way, when did you get so quick?" Hermione made the shift between anger and admiration appear effortless, an ability that Harry was slightly envious of.

"Uh, well, Dumbledore's got me doing some exercises and things like that before bed to help with my Occlumency…" He told the lie blatantly, but as Hermione had already gone back to scolding Ron, it luckily flew over both of their heads.

"Anyway, I guess I'd better go get ready if I want any breakfast, and Ron should dry off a bit," The still-sleepy teen said, getting up and stretching, grimacing at the aches and pains. Not only had he slept in a horrible position, he had overworked many of his muscles the night before, and he was feeling the pain now.

Looking at his friends, though, he decided it was all worth it if it meant he could keep them safe.

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"Is that all you've got, old man? You're getting slow!" Harry jeered, his emerald green eyes peering darkly at his mentor from under his unruly black hair. While it may appear to some that he had let down his guard, a true master would have been able to see the expert way he balanced on the balls of his feet, his wand held loosely in his hand, ready to react at a moment's notice.

Dumbledore noticed all of this, and was filled with pride, although he allowed none of it to show. It wouldn't do to allow his protégée to become overconfident – Some of the best duellers of all time had been defeated by their hubris.

"Slow? I'll show you slow, you upstart!" Dumbledore responded, the fire lighting in his eyes again as he whipped his wand around.

"_Stupefy_!" He shouted, the curse forming at the end of his wand instantly.

Harry's eyes widened with shock as he noted the spell, which he had originally believed to be a stunning spell, didn't form with its customary crimson light, and was instead a sickly yellow. His fears were confirmed as it ripped through his hastily erected _Protego_and continued towards him undeterred.

As he threw himself to the side to avoid it, and heard it slam into the wall with a loud crash, he glanced up at his headmaster and caught the sly grin moments before it vanished.

"Slow, eh? I haven't taught you everything yet, such as how to say one spell and cast another," The esteemed Chief Warlock laughed bitterly. "There is much for me to show you still, and so little time. However, I can only do my best, and hope that you will do yours."

Surprised by Dumbledore's frankness, Harry met eyes with the man he viewed as the father he lacks.

"I will not only do my best, but better, whatever it takes to put down that rabid dog that is Voldemort," Harry stated, his shoulders set and his eyes alight with a fire that burned from the depths of his soul. "I will destroy him."

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"Albus! What exactly have you been doing to the poor boy?" His professor of Transfiguration screeched, an uncharacteristic loss of control for the normally stoic Irish woman.

The wizened wizard sighed deeply, slowly looking up at his Deputy Headmistress. It was an argument he had seen coming, but had no idea how to prevent. The training was a needed thing, something that should have been started years ago, but he was too foolhardy to believe that the situation had deteriorated to such a degree.

"Minerva, tell me. Sixteen years ago, did you honestly believe we could have defeated Voldemort?" Dumbledore said.

"I'm not sure what this has to do with Mr. Potter, but no, I did not think we would win," Minerva McGonagall replied, thinking back to the dark times of the war. It had been a time of death, with many of her close friends being murdered in cold blood, or on the battlefield. Lord Voldemort had seemed unbeatable, and it had been only a matter of time before the Ministry fell.

Albus slowly rose and strode over to his phoenix's perch, petting the intelligent bird as Fawkes crooned happily. The beautiful and regal bird nudged

"As much as I would like to pretend I had never doubted our victory, I believed the same. We were fighting against the inevitable. However, that fateful Halloween night changed everything," The headmaster of the most prestigious wizarding school in England said it sadly, letting his emotion leak into his voice.

"In one night, the entire tide of the war changed. And now, we're on the brink of another, and it seems the only one who can stand against Voldemort is, again, that 'poor boy' you speak of," Dumbledore said, his voice hardening. "We can no longer coddle him. He is the chosen one, the only one with the power to defeat Tom Riddle. I realized that after I received my brother's head in the mail," He said it with an inscrutable expression, but the strictly controlled tone said volumes of the emotion he was feeling.

The elderly witch gasped with shock, falling back limply in her chair. "Aberforth… Aberforth is dead?" She whispered, finally having an answer to why Albus had been appearing more and more aged to her. He was grieving.

Dumbledore gave a jerk of his head in answer, turning away so she wouldn't see the tears drip down his face. "We had our differences, but I loved him. Voldemort will pay for this. And he will pay dearly."

The transfiguration professor got up and shuffled over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I speak not only for myself, but for Filius, and the other Order members as well. We will make Voldemort rue ever rearing his ugly head. If ever you need help with whatever you are doing to ready young Mr. Potter, let me know. Just don't push him too hard, I beg of you."

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"We're going to do things a bit differently today Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said genially, gazing serenely at him. This alone was enough to set him abuzz with nervousness.

"Ah, seems our guest is here. Filius? Come in!" He called out, at the sound of knocking at the door of the empty classroom. The desks had been cleared to the sides of the room, and a line of fluorescent green paint marked a perfect square in the center, simulating a dueling platform.

The raven-haired teen's eyes widened almost comically. "Professor Flitwick, sir?" He said hesitantly. "What can he teach me that you can't?"

"Respect, for one!" The diminutive professor squeaked indignantly, somehow appearing in the room and hitting Harry with a stinging hex simultaneously.

As Harry winced and rubbed his hip, where the stinging hex had connected, Dumbledore chuckled before explaining. "Before our esteemed professor came to teach at Hogwarts, he travelled the circuits as a dueling master. He was undefeated, and could give me a run for my money in a true duel."

This caused Harry to glance at the short professor in shock, re-assessing the tiny man.

"So what are you saying Sir?" He asked, uncertain of what plans the headmaster was brewing up.

Ignoring him, Flitwick began to pace around Harry, inspecting him as one would a horse.

"Yes, yes, very good... I can work with this," The charms professor said in a happy squeak, having seen the way he held himself and his wand. "There are still some rough edges, but nothing that cannot be fixed. I'll help him, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled in relief. While the two were old friends, and he had great respect for the part-goblin wizard, he had not been sure if he would actually assist. He wouldn't have been able to convince him at all if not for Lily Evans being one of his favourite students.

"I am glad to hear that. I'll leave you two at it – Come and see me in a week, Harry, and we shall see how much you have improved. Until then, you are on Flitwick's schedule," Dumbledore said as he turned to head out the door, pausing momentarily to peer at a shattered desk. Repairing it with a flick of his wand, he stepped around it and walked out, halting again in the doorway. "Oh, and Flitwick? Don't break him too badly."

Harry gulped and a cold sweat broke out as the door shut and his charms professor turned to him with a grin on his face that promised cruelty.

"Now... Drop and give me twenty!" Flitwick ordered.

The Boy-Who-Lived was confused, but did as commanded, dropping to the floor and beginning to do push-ups, just to collapse as Flitwick hopped on his back.

"Did I say you could stop!?" The short man screeched in his ear.

With a grunt of exertion, Harry pushed himself off the floor, with Flitwick still perched on his back, before slowly lowering once again. This would be a long, long week.

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Harry reached one hand up to wipe the sweat that was threatening to drip into his eyes away. It had been dark for hours and the sun was only just beginning to rise over the horizon, right in time for him to finish the last of his laps around the lake. It was the last day of the week he was sentenced to spend with Flitwick, and he'd been right to think it would be a long week. Far longer than he'd expected.

It turned out that when Dumbledore had said 'You are on Flitwick's schedule', he really meant it. The miniature professor, after the first day, had pulled out a set of time turners, which he used to extend the week into a month of training. It was rigorous, exhausting work, and he had been running on next to no sleep the entire time. That said, however, the improvements were noticeable. By the third week Flitwick had even grudgingly admitted that he was climbing in skill level at an unprecedented rate.

Looking up, he saw the Charms professor waiting less than a hundred feet away. Gathering the last of his energy, he sprinted towards him, knowing that if he finished any slower than he started he would be in for a lecture. As Flitwick put it, '_Weak bodies are weak minds.'_

He idly wondered, as he closed the final gap between him and his teacher, how they had explained his disappearance for the past week. He had attended classes, but beyond that, every bit of free time, including meals, was spent with Flitwick, or as he liked to refer to him, 'that half-goblin sadist'.

"Finally done?" That half-goblin sadist commented gruffly. His normally cheerful demeanour had disappeared the instant they had begun training.

Harry, still panting, gave no response. There was no correct answer to it.

As he began his cool-down stretches, Flitwick cast an appraising eye on the young wizard.

'_He's come far. Only time will tell if it's far enough, but this'll have to do. He's the quickest learner I've ever taught, and his natural power is incredible. Between him and Dumbledore, they'll more than be a match for the Dark Lord,' _Flitwick thought to himself. '_A few weeks more training with Dumbledore, and by himself he may be able to defeat Voldemort.'_

"Hurry up now, finish those stretches!" Flitwick barked.

Harry, turned away from the short professor, smiled briefly to himself. Try as he might to hide it, he knew Flitwick cared about him.

**A/N: And that's that! Dumbledore snaps, and trains Harry as he should have been from the beginning. I hope you enjoyed, please drop a review if you liked it!**

**This won't be a long one, one more chapter is guaranteed, though I have no idea when I'll be able to get that one out. There may be a third chapter if I don't wrap up everything I would like to in the second. **

**Sorry if the next chapter is a long time in the coming, it all depends on how much free time I have and the amount of motivation to write I can find. Hopefully won't be too long! **

**Thanks for reading!**


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